


Checking Out

by ludolefebvre



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Dima is a librarian, Multi, Sergey's doing his PhD, University AU, What more can I say, alcohol use, everyone else is there doing shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludolefebvre/pseuds/ludolefebvre
Summary: Sergey Lazarev is doing his PhD in veterinary science, and this whole thing would be a lot easier if he wasn't dealing with a crew of rowdy undergrads, trying to maintain a balance with his best-friend-turned-fling-turned-roommate, and harbouring a massive crush on the school librarian.





	1. Karaoke Night

**Author's Note:**

> I humbly request that nobody actually makes any of the artists aware of this fic's existence. Thank you.

Sergey chews on the cap of his pen, not even realizing he’s doing so, as he stares blearily at the clock on the wall. He’s been in the library for three and a half hours, just about- switching floors, moving seats, restless and unable to get into a groove with his writing. He just works better at night, he tells himself. 

He drums his fingers against the table, tearing his eyes away from the barely-budging hands of the clock and forcing them to look back at his laptop. He’s written, what, a page since he got here? He’d be more frustrated with himself if his mind wasn’t already so preoccupied with something else. He’s moved down to the first floor of the library for a reason, snagging a spot at a table close to the door. He feels a cool gust of autumn air around his ankles each time it opens, prompting him to glance up. Almost 8 P.M. now. Any minute now, the person he’s waiting for should be walking in…

The next tickle of wind he feels, Sergey looks up expectantly, and then his face falls almost comically once he sees who it is. It’s that dumbass intern with the stupid scarf. Sergey doesn’t really like to think badly of people, but honestly, he knows the library three times better than this twerp, why would they give him the night shift…? 

Truth be told, he’s just a little pissed that it’s not the employee that usually works a Thursday night. He’s more than a little enamoured with the man, he has to admit. Oh well, he usually works Fridays too… maybe tomorrow night, then. Sergey begins to pack up his things, taking his time to make sure his colour-coded notes are all in their proper places and that his laptop is crumb-free and snugly in its case. It won’t be a wasted night, he resolves. He’ll probably get more done at home, with no hot librarian to make goo-goo eyes at. And he won’t have to pay five dollars for a coffee at home, either.

He dons his light jacket and takes care to not make too much noise as he leaves the library. For what seems like the hundredth time in the semester already, he regrets going for the cheap parking pass, the one in “The Pit” down the hill from the library. It’s a twenty minute walk on a good day and he knows it’ll only get shittier once the snow starts falling. Maybe he can trade some gullible undergraduate for a better spot. 

On his way down to his car, Sergey cuts through the dorms- they’re all interconnected by a long hallway, “Student Street” as the residence kids call it. Thursday night is party night, so pre-drinks are in full swing, he can hear plenty of yelling and laughter behind the common room doors. He’s too lazy to grab his headphones out of their pouch in his bag, so he just listens to the various screams of the 18-20 crowd and maybe reminisces a little. He still loves to party, but it’s no longer an every-weekend occurrence like it used to be.

“Hey! Hey, Sergey!” Sergey looks up from the floor and down the hallway to see Miki, one of the students he mentors, waving at him. He smiles and waves back politely, and then four more boys spill out of the door behind Miki. “Hey guys, this is Sergey, he’s doing a PhD!” Miki exclaims, not bothering to tell Sergey any of his friends’ names. “We’re just about to go out, man, why don’t you come with us?”

“Thank you, Miki, it would be nice to hang out, but I’m actually on my way home.”

“I’ll buy you a drink! C’mon, just one. We’re going out to sing karaoke anyway, I know you sing!”

Sergey purses his lips for a second, thinking. It’s been a while since he had a beer. Eh, fuck it. “Okay, I’ll come out. Just one drink, though.”

“Sweet! Can I ride shotgun with you? There wasn’t enough room in Victor’s car last time, we had to put Eli in the trunk.”

Sergey gets acquainted with the rest of the guys on their way down to the car lot, and they’re already all talking about how “fucked up” they’re planning on getting. Sergey smiles a bit and wonders if he’ll really just have the one beer. Maybe it won’t be the end of the world if he has a few drinks and gets up to sing. 

Somehow, between the two vehicles, Eliot still ends up in the trunk. And then they’re off to the local karaoke joint.

\--

There’s actually only a few people at the bar when the group arrives. Victor assures Sergey that this is normal and that people start to trickle in from the other clubs as the hours proceed. “This place is usually stormin’ by the end of the night.” 

“Storming? Is that what you all say nowadays?” Sergey smiles as they head over the ATM to grab some cash for the bar. 

“Nah, it’s just something I say,” replies Victor. “Oh shit, looks like Eliot is getting held up by the bouncer again.” 

Sergey looks up at the stairs and indeed, the boy is haggling with the bouncer, Miki beside him. “C’mon man, you do this every week! Look, even his passport matches!” the Spaniard exclaims. Sergey realizes that the bouncer had waved him by without even checking his license, and he feels like an old man. He withdraws his money, keeping an eye on the guys at the door even as he goes to sit up by the bar and orders a beer.

He sees one of the students he mentored last year sitting a few seats down from him. They’d gotten along pretty well. “Hey, Anna, long time, no see,” he says, prompting her to look up from her phone. Her perfectly glossy lips quirk into a smile. “Hey, stranger,” she says. “I go by Maruv now, by the way.”

“Ah, right, the instagram thing,” Sergey nods. They make some small talk about her new career and sip at their drinks. 

“Enough about me,” she says. “What are you doing at a karaoke bar on a weeknight?” She suddenly smiles devilishly. “Ah, is it a boy?” 

“No, no,” Sergey laughs, pointing a finger back over his shoulder at the group of guys who are still trying to get poor Eliot into the bar. “These guys invited me out, I mentor one of them this year. I figured it wouldn’t hurt. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughs. Her phone buzzes and her eyebrows raise as she looks down at the notification. “Shit. Gotta go. It was nice talking to you again, Serezha.”

“You too, A- Maruv. Have a good night!”

Sergey hears a loud cheer by the door, followed by the group from the dorm thundering down the stairs with Eliot in tow. 

“I swear, someone’s got it out for me here,” Eliot grumbles. 

“Ah, not this again- here, Eli, I’ll buy you a shot,” Miki says. 

“I obviously know too mu-”

“TWO PORNSTAR SHOTS, PLEASE!” The bartender nods as Miki all but throws a tenner at him. 

“Hey, where did that other guy go?” asks Sergey. “The one with the nice bu- uh, the nice haircut?”

“Oh, Duncan? He’s over there.” Victor answers, pointing at a row of arcade-style games lined up at the back corner of the room. “Trying to beat my high score again.”

“I still haven’t figured out how you rigged that… but I will.”

“Eliot, take your shot.”

\--

A little over an hour in, they all have a few drinks in them, and the bar isn’t quite packed yet, but there’s a good crowd of people their age. Miki’s been up to sing a few songs, mostly from the Shrek soundtrack. Sergey’s had more than just the one beer indeed, he thinks he’s on his fourth. Duncan has rejoined the group and is currently double-fisting a Bloody Mary and a Blue Motorcycle, which Sergey thinks have got to taste dreadful together. Duncan seems to be enjoying them, though.

To Sergey’s surprise, Duncan seems to be getting hammered the quickest; he would have put his money on Eliot. Not to say that Eliot is anywhere near sober, of course not. The kid has had a wild look to his eyes since he’d taken that shot.

Miki bounces off the stage after finishing his rendition of Accidentally In Love, practically running up to his friends’ booth. “Did I do okay? I broke a note-” 

“You did awesome,” smiles Sergey, who’d barely been able to hear him over the music anyway. Miki throws his arms around Sergey for longer than what would be considered standard for a sober bro-hug. “Thanks, buddy!”

The DJ calls Duncan up to the stage. Duncan doesn’t notice until Victor pokes him and tells him to get his ass up there, after which he does.

“Sergey, watch,” Victor grins.

“Oh? Is he any good?”

“Oh, a voice like an angel, but he’s completely sloshed. Don’t just listen; watch.” So Sergey downs the rest of his beer and sits back.

The opening chords to Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For A Hero” blare through the bar and Sergey can see Duncan already shaking his hips onstage.

As he sings, he does- well, some sort of interpretive dance as well. Victor was right, he is quite amusing to watch. At one point near the end of the song, Duncan drops into the splits and is unable to get back up, continuing to sing in a high-pitched voice. Eliot rushes onstage to help him up and they finish the song together. The table bursts into applause as they make their way back like champions. 

“God, I’m so fucking good,” Duncan says, a bit slurred.

“You really are, dude.”

Sergey announces that he’s going up to grab another drink, but the guys are only about halfway through their current ones so Sergey goes to the bar counter alone. He’s waiting to grab the bartender’s attention when he feels a hand on his shoulder and flinches. “Hey, it’s just me, no need to jump,” an accented voice lilts behind him. Sergey turns to see who it is, a little slow from the alcohol. “Douwe! What are you doing here?”

“I work down the street, I thought I’d stop in for a drink. I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Sergey recalls there being a reason for that- namely, Douwe getting a girlfriend that didn’t much appreciate him being in Sergey’s pants. “Yeah, it’s been so long! What have you been up to?”

“Oh, not a lot, keeping up with school and a job- there’s not room for much else,” Douwe sighs. “Here, let me buy you a drink.” He plucks the five-dollar bill from Sergey’s fingers and tucks it into Sergey’s jeans pocket, grabbing his butt a little as he does so. Sergey stammers out a ‘yes’ in response to the drink and Douwe orders for both of them. Sergey is a little too tipsy to tell if he’s being flirted with or not. He can’t even tell if the weird feeling in his gut is butterflies or anxiety, so he takes a long gulp of the drink that Douwe bought for him to try and settle it. He and Douwe talk about things over the roar of the music until he just feels like he’s babbling, Douwe’s hand on his thigh.

Suddenly, an empty glass goes flying at Douwe’s head. It misses by quite a bit and smashes loudly against the floor. Both men jump and scream, and Sergey’s wide eyes go straight to an enraged-looking Duncan. 

“Duncan, not again!” Miki yells, running up behind him, “You’re going to get us kicked out!” The words are barely out of his mouth before the bouncer is over, hauling Duncan, Douwe and Sergey up the stairs and onto the street. “If I ever see you pull this shit again, you’re never coming back!” he yells and slams the door behind them. 

Duncan just continues to sneer at Douwe, who looks back at Duncan like he’s something distasteful that the cat dragged in. “Nice one, Laurence.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t been such a creep to my friend here,” Duncan says, slinging an arm around Sergey, “that wouldn’t have been necessary.” Sergey can’t remember the last time he’s felt this uncomfortable, caught in the middle of some Dutch feud. 

“Whatever, Laurence, you’re insane. Have fun with him, Sergey.” Douwe raises his eyebrows and starts to walk off, Duncan yelling some rather rude things after him. Sergey pulls Duncan’s arm off his shoulder, making the other man stumble. “What is wrong with you?!” 

“Hate that guy,” Duncan slurs. Sergey’s basically holding him up against the brick wall. “I wanna sit down,” Duncan blurts suddenly, and plops down cross-legged on the sidewalk. “I just… I just, he sucks,” Duncan waves his arms around a little bit. “He’s an asshole. Like, a really… really mean guy…”

“He’s actually an old friend of mine.”  
“Oh. Well…. Sorry. Ha. No, I’m not.” 

“Alright, Duncan. How are you getting your drunk ass home?”

“I usual-” Duncan seems to trail off for a second before coming back to earth, “I usually walk…”

“That’s like, fifteen kilometres. I’m calling you a cab.”

“I got loooong legs.”

“You wouldn’t make it to the end of the street,” Sergey mutters under his breath, dialing a taxi service. When he gets an answer, he requests a cab back to the university, and then a separate one back to his apartment to come a few minutes later (he’ll grab his schoolwork and valuables out of his car first, he tells himself). Now how is he going to get the rest of the group out of the bar? He starts to text Miki when the door bangs open behind them, and Miki and Victor stumble out with Eliot in tow. Sergey notices that Eliot’s face is covered in tears and snot.

“Eliot, what’s wrong?!”

“He took his tequila shot up the nose!”

“B-burrrns,” Eliot sobs. 

“I called a cab for you three and Duncan here, so don’t go far.”

“You’re not gonna drive, are you?” Miki looks concerned. 

“Of course not, my cab is coming after. Ah, look, there’s your van.”

Miki thanks him for coming out, saying that he had “a lot of fun” and that they “should do this again sometime”. Sergey makes a mental note to not do that.

He’s a little woozy walking back to his car, but the incident with the glass served to sober him up pretty quickly. He grabs his bag and goes through instagram on his phone until his cab arrives.

Sergey sees a picture from a girl he’s more acquaintances with than anything. Her name’s Kate, and she seems to have posted a selfie with Sergey’s favourite handsome librarian. Sergey likes the picture, and because he doesn’t have the best filter when he’s tipsy, he DMs her: “Hey, is taht your boyfriend? Hes sexy ;)”.

He forgets all about the comment once he gets in the cab, and upon getting home, passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He supposes there’d been worse nights.


	2. Chapter 2

Seven-thirty on a Friday night, and Sergey finds himself back in the library. He had spent the morning nursing a mild hangover, bitching to his roommate and then making some pancakes for the both of them to make up for it, and finally, picking up his car from the bar’s parking lot. The afternoon was spent running some errands at the mall, and now he’s going to be here all evening and into the night. 

He rubs his forehead, highlighting another sentence of the article he’s reading and jotting down the page and section number in his notebook. His phone buzzes, and he thinks it’s his timer, but it’s a notification from instagram. Kate from the astrophysics department has sent him a message: “That’s my friend Dima, he’s taking a gap year before his Master’s. No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s single, though, shall I tell him that you think he’s sexy?”

Sergey squints and unlocks his phone. What the hell is that about- oh. Oh god. He sees the message that he sent Kate the night prior, and almost deletes it out of embarrassment even though it’s too late. “No”, he types, “please don’t. Sorry, I didn’t mean to send that”. He groans and puts his head down on the table until he hears another buzz. Kate has responded with, “Alright, no problem. ;)” Shit. He figures Dima might find out anyway. He hopes not, though.

Speak of the devil- Sergey hears the door open and looks up, his mouth going dry and face turning red when he sees Dima walking through the entrance. Dima catches his eye and gives him a brief smile, polite but warm- nothing to indicate that he knows about Sergey’s drunken misstep. Whew, okay. Maybe he’s safe for now, then. He absentmindedly watches Dima walk over to the check-out desk and switch spots with the evening employee, trying not to look like he’s staring. 

Dima pulls out his knitting, so Sergey goes back to studying. He has a system when Dima is on shift. 25 minutes of reading, 25 minutes of writing, and then he gets a 10-minute break to grab another coffee and daydream about his favourite librarian. So on and so forth until the sun rises.

A few books surround his laptop, all of them about the ethics of particular veterinary research methods. He has about fifteen tabs open on his browser- JSTOR scholar portal, a few journals, and a blog post about a new pec workout that he’d forgotten to close the day before. He’s knee-deep in research, and for the first time all evening, he’s actually absorbing the information and making connections, scribbling them down messily in his notes (in colour-coded pen, still), feeling soothed by the gentle click of knitting needles coming from the checkout desk. For close to an hour he works tirelessly, feeling like he’s getting somewhere. He’s drained his coffee and his timer vibrates in his pocket, which signals the time for his break. Sergey stands up, stretches, and goes to rinse his empty cup and put it in the recycling bin. He passes Dima, giving him a smile. He lets his mind wander, easily falling into his daydream. This time he’s over-analyzing the way Dima’s hand brushed against his and lingered when he handed off a stack of books last week. His touch had been so warm, sending shocks right to Sergey’s heart and butterflies to his stomach like a teenager finding a love note in their high school locker. He takes the stairs down to the Starbucks kiosk, stars in his eyes as he imagines Dima actually holding his hand. 

“Just a venti cappuccino, please, Alessandro,” he says quietly. Alessandro holds up a purple chrome travel tumbler. “Do you want to get one of our travel mugs?” he asks. “Saves you 50 cents a coffee. And it’s eco-friendly.”

“No thank you.”

“Well I’m out of venti cups, so….”

“Fuck it, ring up the mug, then.”

Sergey pays for his mug and coffee, and once he has the steaming purple mug in his hands, ventures back up the stairs. He passes the desk on his way back to his table and Dima’s not there. He must be helping a student, Sergey thinks. He wants a change of scenery, so he packs up his things and moves up a floor, choosing to set up shop in the quiet back corner of the room. 

About a half-hour later, he’s deep into his research again. Words fly from his fingertips- he’ll proofread them later, but for now, he’s getting somewhere. He lets his stream of consciousness take him to as many conclusions as it can find, and completely forgets about even taking a break for the next hour or so.  
\--

Dima wheels the cart down the aisle, looking down to check what books he still has to shelve. He kind of hopes that he doesn’t get interrupted again; there’s not many people left in the library at the moment, and it’s very quiet now that the group of first-year nursing students has left. He stops, shelves two books on the same topic by the same author, and proceeds. He’s a little bummed that the cute PhD student seems to have packed up and left for the night, presumably while Dima had been helping a pair of criminology majors. He’ll live, though. He’ll just finish up this cart of books and then go back to knitting for a bit, or find something else to occupy his time. Maybe find a podcast to listen to. 

He finishes up in the aisle and checks that there are no remaining books on the cart that go anywhere on the first floor, then wheels the cart into the elevator to go up to the second floor. He quietly hums a tune to himself as he moves through the aisles, occasionally having to stifle a cough when returning something to a spot that’s particularly dusty. As he gets to the back of the room, he catches some movement out of the corner of his eye. He pushes a few books out of the way and peers through the small gap he’s created. It’s Sergey, the vet student, sitting at the study table, looking perilously focused as he alternates between scribbling notes and hacking away at his keyboard. Dima’s lips quirk into a soft smile and he sighs, telling himself that he must just be relieved to have some polite, familiar company through the night. He stands there for a little longer than is entirely necessary, watching Sergey work, admiring the way his tired eyes light up like a crackling fire when he comes to a particularly effective conclusion in his writing. Dima is so enraptured in observing Sergey that he doesn’t realize he’s knocked over a heavy tome until it thuds loudly onto the floor, the sound ringing and echoing through the room. Dima ducks as Sergey jumps violently and rips his one headphone out of his ear, looking terrified for a few seconds. Shit, shit, SHIT. He doesn’t want Sergey to know he was being a creep and literally watching him through the shelf, so he stays crouched down for what feels like an eternity until he hears Sergey sigh and start to type again. Dima peeks through the shelf one last time to make sure Sergey is distracted and has his headphones in once more, and then he scurries off. He’ll shelve the remaining books later. Once he’s back at the checkout desk, his racing heart settles, and he attempts to get back to his knitting. 

Dima spends the rest of the night organizing the desk, working on his blanket, and he even finds a podcast about science fiction to listen to. He gets quite into a few episodes, and before he knows it, the sun is starting to peek from the horizon and his shift is nearly over.

The staircase door opens and Dima sees Sergey trudging across the floor with his bag and travel mug in tow. He looks exhausted, but that’s usually the state that Dima sees him in, so he doesn’t mind. To his surprise, Sergey is heading for his desk rather than the door. Anxiety quickly grips Dima’s stomach; what if Sergey caught him watching? What if he hates him now? What if he gets fired for this? Wh-

“Okay, this is gonna sound kinda stupid,” says Sergey quietly, a grave seriousness in his eyes. He places a hand on the desk, making sure he really has Dima’s attention. “I heard a really loud bang up on the second floor last night but I know I was the only one up there. So… there might be, like, a ghost?”

Dima’s eyes widen in fake surprise and legitimate panic. Shit, now he has to come up with something…. Quick, Dima, quick!

“Oh, yeah, the library’s definitely haunted,” is what comes out of his mouth. 

“Whoa, really?”

“Yeah- m-maybe I’ll tell you the story tonight if you’re here,” says Dima, regretting literally every word that he speaks. 

“That would be super cool. Well, that’s the last time I study on a floor all alone overnight.”

“Yeah, it’s better to stay on the first floor. They won’t bug you if I’m here,” Dima says, hoping that Sergey is too tired to tell that Dima is talking completely out of his ass. 

“I’ll do that from now on,” Sergey smiles and yawns widely. “Well, see ya tonight.”

“Make sure to get some sleep,” Dima says. “See you later.”

Dima knows he’s not going to get much sleep because now he’s going to have to make up a bunch of bullshit about the library being haunted in case Sergey wants to hear about it. A big part of him hopes he’ll just forget. A smaller but louder part just really wants the excuse to talk to him.

He grabs a couple of energy drinks from the vending machine on the way out to his car. He checks his phone and surprisingly he has a notification. Who’s up this early?

Ah. It’s his friend Kate. 

“So, you have a secret admirer…”  
\--

Miki yawns, laying on his bedroom floor and scrolling through his phone. Why the floor? Well, you see, he did laundry on Sunday, and now it’s Tuesday and the laundry is still on his bed half-folded. Totally still within his normal turnaround time of four to five business days.

His phone buzzes, startling Miki and causing him to drop the phone on his face. “Aaagh!” he groans, rolling onto his side and clutching his lip. He checks the notification anyway, through stinging eyes. It’s an e-mail from…. Oh no. 

Oh NO.

“Good morning, Miki!

I am sending this message to inform you that I will be conducting room inspections at 10:00 sharp! I request that all members of the lodging be present- if any of your roommates are in lectures, I will schedule to inspect their rooms at a later time. 

I will be seeing you soon! (:

-Phillip Kirkorov, B.Sc.M”

OHHHH GOD NO. 

Miki scrambles up off of the floor and runs to the kitchen, only briefly glancing down to make sure he’s wearing underwear. He runs, and then smacks straight into what feels like a solid wall, causing him to bounce back and fall onto the floor. 

“Aw, shit, it’s Miki,” he hears Victor sigh. “Sorry, man! Thought you were Eli.” 

Miki looks up, ears ringing and head spinning, to see his roommate Victor holding a roll of plastic cling wrap. He can now see the wrap stretched across the mouth of the hallway, realizing that’s what he’d run into. Niccolo rushes to his side. “Dude, I’m so sorry-” 

Miki grabs Niccolo by the front of his shirt, looking at him, and then Victor, in dazed horror. “You guys,” he whimpers, “K-Kirkorov’s coming.”  
\--

Sergey sips at his latte, seeing a familiar-looking silhouette enter the coffee shop. Miki stumbles towards Sergey’s table, holding himself in a strange manner- in fact, the young man looks pale as a sheet.

“Good afternoon, Miki,” he says. “Are you sick? We could have met later in the week-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” stutters Miki, dramatically dropping into the chair across from Sergey. “We just had…. Dorm inspections.”

“Oh, yeah, I used to get super nervous about those. How did it go?”

“Kirkorov didn’t give us any notice! The place was a mess, Eliot threw up on him, and he didn’t even look at Victor’s room. God, he’s terrifying…. Like a big, ugly, scary clown.”

Sergey snorts, taking another sip of his drink and looking like he’s trying to not burst into giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Miki demands, some colour rising back into his complexion.

“Kirkorov? Scary?”

“Yeah, what? You don’t think so?” Miki asks defensively.

“He’s a good friend of my parents’, I grew up with him. He got me this watch for my birthday, actually. Uncle Phillip.”

Miki’s jaw drops. 

“Don’t worry, I know the first years don’t usually love him. But I swear, he’s a big ol’ teddy bear.”

Miki and Sergey order some light lunch and spend the rest of their mentor section going over lines and diction, with Miki occasionally getting distracted by his phone or telling Sergey a story about his and his roommates’ antics.

“So then Eliot had to go to emerg, so now he’s winning.”

“Winning what?” Sergey’s brow furrows.

“Oh, the contest. Who can end up in the hospital the most times. Not on purpose, purely by accident or being a dumbass only. I’m in third place.”

Sergey pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. Wasting essential healthcare services, potentially damaging your body in a lasting way? Trust me, I broke my knee skating when I was 13 and it still aches when the weather changes. That’s a pretty stupid thing to compete over.”

“I mean… it makes a pretty good meme though.”

Sergey folds his hands over the table, shaking his head. “Miguel….”

He looks so purely disappointed, making Miki’s stomach drop to the floor. Sergey’s never looked that upset with him before. 

“I- … Sergey, I won’t participate in the contest anymore. You’re right, it’s stupid.”

Sergey lets out the breath that he was holding and finishes his coffee before giving Miki a small smile. “I don’t want to ruin your fun, I just think you could maybe have… y’know. Smarter fun.”

“Of course.” 

They go back to their session, and Miki knows that even though Sergey doesn’t seem mad at him anymore, he’ll probably have a nightmare about that disappointed look.

\--

“A secret admirer?” Dima asks as he kicks his shoes off, bending down to place them on the mat. He’d demanded that Kate allow him to come over for a late lunch after her cryptic text this morning. Dima had barely gotten any sleep, tossing and turning, trying to think of who Kate knew and what she knew.

“Well, yeah. But he wants me to keep it a secret, so I can’t tell you.”

“So it’s a man!” Dima points at Kate, who is sitting on her couch with her feet up, phone in hand. “Ha, see, you’re terrible with secrets anyway.”

“Wow, Dima. You did it, you’ve successfully narrowed it down to half of the world’s population.” 

Dima drops his bag by the door and bounds over to the couch, flopping down on the one cushion not already occupied. “Whatever, I’ll get it out of you eventually. Is he cute, at least?”

“Ye- I mean, uh. I don’t know. Goddamnit.” Kate sticks her tongue out at Dima, who returns the favour. “Anyways, I’m starving.”

Dima stands back up and walks over to the kitchen, opening the fridge. “I’ll cook lunch, then.”

“Thanks, you’re an angel. Just don’t use up the zucchini, I’m saving it to make noodles.”

“Noted. Can I use the white wine?”

“It’s literally three in the aftern-”

“For risotto, dumbass. I have work tonight.”

“Oh. Then yeah, sure. I’ve got mushrooms, too, if you want to add those.”

Dima sets about to making risotto and a side salad to go along with it, humming as he washes and dices the mushrooms. After a few minutes Kate gets up off the couch and sits at the breakfast table to keep him company. “So, this book I just finished- The Sheperd’s Hut. You’ve gotta read it. So many good sentences.”

“I probably should. Will I, though? Probably not.” Dima smiles over his shoulder at Kate.

“Oh, come on! You read so little for someone who works in a damn library. I’ll lend you my copy, you can bring it to work tonight.”

“Mm. I’ll think about it.”

“What else do you even have to do all night? Besides your job, I suppose.”

Dima’s eyes widen and his back stiffens as he remembers that he’s supposed to be coming up with something to tell Sergey tonight. “Uh…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ll bring the book along, just don’t forget to give it to me when I leave.”

“Yay!” Kate jumps up, heading off to her bedroom. “I’ll go grab it right now!”

Dima puts the knife down on the cutting board and quickly pulls out his phone, not even sure of what to search. He sets it down on the counter, frustrated with himself. 

“I left the book by your stuff. Seriously, what’s up? You’re looking at me weird.”

“I need you to come up with a story for me.”

“Oh?” Kate’s eyebrow quirks. “What about?”

“Uh, I accidentally told someone that the library was haunted.”

“So?”

“So, now he wants me to tell him about it tonight. But there’s no story to tell, except that I’m clumsy and dropped a book.”

“Then just tell him you’re too busy to talk?”

Dima sighs, blowing some hair out of his face as he starts chopping up onions. “But I want to talk to him....”

“Ahh, I see, he’s pretty, then? Okay, let’s come up with something, then, we can’t have poor, thirsty Dima going parched.”

“Shut uuuupp.”

“Oh, come now, don’t cry.”

“Onions, you fuck.”

Kate grabs a pad of paper and a pen and they spend the rest of the afternoon coming up with what Dima thinks is some pretty solid lore about the library ghost. The food turns out pretty well, and later Dima remembers to slip The Sheperd’s Hut into his bag as he bids Kate a good night and leaves.

\--

Sergey stands up to stretch momentarily, pulling out his headphones. He raises his arms above his head and bends his back, noting how the rain has gotten heavier than before, now thudding heavily against the windowpanes at a steady pace. He hears the library door struggle open and a pair of wet shoes squeaking across the floor. Turning his head, he sees Dima trudging over to the front desk. He’s drenched to the bone from the rain and looking positively miserable, and Sergey rushes over to him, nearly tripping over himself. 

“Here, you’re soaked- let me help-”

“I’m fi- oh. Thank you.” Dima removes his wet glasses after Sergey assists him in peeling off his sopping cardigan. “It was only sprinkling when I left home, so I didn’t think I’d need an umbrella.” 

“No problem,” Sergey says quietly, noting that Dima was only wearing a thin white undershirt beneath the cardigan. It’s soaked too, practically skin-tight, and he tries not to blush like a goddamn teenager. “Uh, hopefully your sweater dries soon…. Or you know what, here! I’ll go get mine.” He practically sprints back over to his table, returning with a maroon hoodie. “You can wear this while yours dries,” he says, smiling.

Dima thinks to protest for a second before he realizes that one, he’s starting to shiver from being cold and damp, and two, his undershirt is most definitely see-through at the moment. “Thanks,” he says, using the sleeve first to dry the lenses of his glasses before pulling the hoodie on. It’s the slightest bit small on him, but it’s warm and soft and smells a bit like cologne. “I’ll give it back in the morning.”

Sergey needs to distract himself from thinking about how adorable Dima looks wearing his hoodie, so he knows he should bid Dima a good shift and go back to studying. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “So… are you gonna tell me some ghost stories tonight?”

Dima sighs and smiles, running a hand through his wet hair. “Sure, in a while. Just gonna do some work first. I’ll come find you.” 

“‘Kay. I’ll just be over here.”

They both smile with the sort of mirth that comes with depriving yourself of sleep for too many days in a row, and then head back to their respective desks. Sergey tries to focus on his work. Not thinking about how his sweater might smell like Dima when he gets it back, or about how giddy he is at the prospect of just listening to the man talk for a while. Of course not. He still doesn’t understand why a guy like himself- who’s dated enough people in the past six years to staff a softball team- is getting butterflies in his stomach and going weak in the knees for a man who probably just views him as a regular at the library. 

Nevertheless, he flicks the pages of his textbook absentmindedly and waits for the sound of Dima’s chair scraping against the floor. He really should have gotten more sleep today, he realizes, blinking heavily. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just rest his eyes for a second… and before Sergey knows it, he’s being gently shaken awake.

“Mmm?”

“Hey… sorry, I’m technically not allowed to let you sleep in here,” Dima whispers softly. Sergey’s sleepy eyes blink open and he realizes where he is. “Shit, shit, sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

“S’okay,” Dima’s lips quirk into a smile. Somehow, even with his eyes still half-closed and cheek stuck to a textbook, Sergey is pretty adorable.

It’s a Saturday, so there’s only two other people in the library. “Wanna hear about the ghosts now? Looks like your studying was boring you,” Dima remarks. Sergey sits up and nods eagerly. 

“Yeah, I’d love that!”

“Okay, I’m gonna go tell those two other students to just ring the bell if they need anyth- oh. They’re necking.” Dima shakes his head, looking back at Sergey. “Wanna go up to the second floor, then? Wouldn’t wanna spook them.” Dima smiles at his own joke.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you up there! Just gonna go grab a coffee first, you want one?”

“God yes, thank you so much. Latte with a double espresso?”

“Sounds good,” Sergey nods, heart racing as he gathers his things into his bag. The two part, with Dima heading up the stairs and Sergey down, both excited and nervous at the prospect of what the stormy night shall bring.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback in the comments! Let me know what you think! This chapter is shorter but I feel like I got on a bit of a roll so there will be more soon. If you want to follow my instagram at @bilanzarev I sometimes post my fanart as well!

“So, the legend goes…” 

Sergey listens raptly, hands cupped around his coffee thermos. “The legend? How long ago was this?”

“Around 1962.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Anyways,” Dima shuffles around to get comfortable on the couch. He and Sergey had settled on the reading lounge to hole up in, with its floor-to-ceiling windows giving a chilling view of the trees shaking in the wind and rain hitting the panes. “There was this professor… psychology, you know how it is. He was happily married, or so it seemed.”

“Mhm?” Sergey sips his coffee, then kicks off his shoes and tucks his legs underneath him. 

“He taught many students, but this one girl- well, young woman- he took to her quite well. She was quite brilliant, clearly had a lot of potential in the field,” Dima says, worried that he’s not keeping Sergey’s attention.

“Okay, and then?”

“Well, they started an affair.”

“Of course.”

“Yeah. It went on for quite a while, and as you can imagine, it got more and more difficult to keep it a secret. Sarah, the student, wasn’t even sure she wanted to anymore.”

“Okay…”

“One night, Dr. Logan came home to a note from his wife. It was an ultimatum. She knew something was going on, and insisted it be put to an end in order to save both of their reputations, if not their marriage.”

Sergey nods again, leaning forward slightly without realizing.

“So he asked Sarah to meet him in the library. The fourth floor. She came, of course.”

“Probably hoping he’d ask her to run away with him.”

“Something like that, yeah. Instead, he said that things had to end between them. He didn’t want anything to do with her.”

“Shit,” Sergey winces in sympathy. 

Dima nods. “Sarah didn’t like what she was hearing. She cried, begged and pleaded for him to stay. Pulled out all the stops. He wouldn’t back down, so she decided to threaten him…”

Sergey’s eyes widen. Dima continues, “She said she’d tell the Dean and all of his colleagues. Not only that they’d been in a relationship, but a few other things he’d been doing under the record… drug use, taking bribes, the like.”

“Damn psych profs,” whispers Sergey. 

“Oh, it gets worse.”

“Did she do it?”

“Never got the chance… Dr. Logan panicked. He knocked Sarah unconscious and dragged her up to the roof.” Sergey gasps. 

“Oh my god…”

“He pushed her off the building, and framed it as a suicide. There was no note, so the police couldn’t rule out foul play. When Dr. Logan and his wife were implicated in the investigation, he threw himself off the building as well.”

“Holy fuck. Are you being serious?”

“Dead serious. All the newspaper records were destroyed in a fire. Some people say that it was Mrs. Logan herself that set it.”

“This is crazy.”

“Beyond crazy. But truth is stranger than fiction.” Dima folds his hands in his lap.

“Wow… I wonder what other stuff has happened here. Maybe things that no one ever heard about.”

“I try not to think about it,” Dima shrugs with a raised eyebrow, “Since, y’know, sometimes I’m alone here in the middle of the night.”

“Makes sense. Thanks for telling me the story, though.”

They smile softly at each other for a moment before looking away. 

“I, uh…. I guess I should get back to studying,” Sergey says hesitantly.

“And I have a job to do,” Dima sighs. But neither man moves to stand.

“We’ve got all night, though. And I like the way you tell stories,” Sergey admits.

“I don’t have any more stories, though,” Dima laughs nervously.

“I meant stories about you,” Sergey says, fiddling with his watch.

“Oh,” Dima looks surprised. “I’m pretty boring, really.”

Sergey wants to hear it all, though. Wants to listen to Dima paint him pictures of his childhood. Maybe they’d loved the same TV shows, had posters of the same celebrities. Every boring little detail would seem anything but mundane coming from Dima’s lips. Dima would pause after a while and ask Sergey about himself, and they’d swap stories until the sun rose…. Sergey wants to get to know this man beyond their hushed library moments so badly, he could scream. 

“Sergey?” 

Sergey blinks, snapping out of his brief daydream. “Yeah?”

“Do _ you _ have any stories?” 

Sergey ponders for a second, years of his life flooding back at him like blurry spectres whipping around his body. “Maybe a few.”

Dima smiles, leaning back further into the couch cushions and fiddling with the lid of his coffee cup. “Tell me your favourites, then.”

Sergey laughs nervously, but the words flow out of him regardless. He doesn’t think he’s as good of a storyteller as Dima, frequently giving too much detail, or not enough, but Dima doesn’t complain. He smiles warmly as Sergey weaves little webs, talking about his friends, his professors, wild bar nights, crazy blind dates, a trip abroad that he’d enjoyed. Anything and everything he could think of. He tries to only share the stories with happy endings. Dima will occasionally interject with a similar experience of his own, and soon, they’re swapping life advice. Inching closer and closer on the couch, eyes getting sleepier and laughs harmonizing. 

The next thing Sergey knows, the sun is starting to peek through the windows. He’s laying down on the couch, with his hoodie draped over him. Dima isn’t with him. He hadn’t remembered him leaving… 

Sergey sits up and scrubs at his eyes, yawning. He spots a note on the coffee table and picks it up. 

“Make sure you get some sleep sometime. Thanks for loaning me your sweater, and thanks for tonight too.   
-Dima”

Sergey smiles and blinks, relieved to have this confirmation that the night hadn’t been a dream. He slips the note into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls it on, realizing that it does smell a little like Dima. He lets out a sigh that’s almost wistful, then laughs at himself for being a dopey, sleep-deprived romantic again.

He passes Dima on his way out of the library and they share a smile. Sergey swears that Dima might have winked at him, too.

The rain had stopped just past midnight, but everything is still wet and shining in the sun. The air is cool and Sergey pulls his hood over his head, wrapped safely in the subtle mix of his cologne and Dima’s aftershave. He drives home, head reeling as the night comes back to him, mind compartmentalizing and documenting everything he’d revealed to Dima; everything Dima had told to him.

He texts his friend Chingiz just before getting into bed._ “Made some progress w D, I’ll tell u about it tonight!”_ He keeps his hoodie on and sinks happily into his mountain of pillows, breathing deeply and indulging himself to replay Dima’s stories on repeat in his head until he conks out.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s actually been a while since Sergey overslept a commitment. He takes punctuality seriously, and even with his hectic (borderline self-destructive) sleep schedule, he still gets everywhere he needs to be on time. 

That being said, a sparkling record of being on time for his volunteering at the dog shelter doesn’t change the fact that he’s now trying to put on a shirt (backwards, he’ll discover soon) while brushing his teeth at the same time. Quite a feat. Not the kind of one he wants to get into the habit of practicing, though. 

He resists the urge to speed once he gets in the car, reminding himself that the minute or three that he’d save by doing so wouldn’t change his life enough to warrant the likelihood of getting a traffic ticket that he can’t afford. He loves volunteering, but right now he wishes he was still in bed, in yesterday’s sweater, swaddled in his absurd amount of pillows and sweet (if weird at times) dreams about the library. He blasts the radio and nods his head along to the beat, licking his lips to get rid of any residual toothpaste. 

Nobody really notices that he’s late anyway. Sergey’s almost a little put out by that, he’d thought of a pretty good excuse involving Amir, a flamethrower and their upstairs neighbour’s pet gecko. 

Sergey says hello to his friend Chingiz and signs into the volunteer record book. He’s just about to go wash his hands when the shelter door opens and someone familiar walks in. It takes him a second to put a name to the face, but when he does, his own expression turns sour. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Chingiz runs up to the man.

“Duncan! Hi!” Chingiz turns to Sergey. “This, is, uh, who I was, you know, telling you about.”

Sergey opens his mouth, ready to tell Chingiz that under_ no_ circumstances would he trust this man around the dogs, but Chingiz gives him a pleading look that begs ‘_please be nice, don’t screw up my chances_’. 

So Sergey just sighs and rubs the back of his head. “We’ve met,” he says. Though he’d been pretty tipsy that night, the memory of Duncan “_I got loooong legs_” Laurence did not escape him.

“Have we?” Duncan looks at Sergey, puzzled, and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Yeah, we went out with your friends for karaoke, and then we got kicked out because you threw a cocktail glass at my ex-boyfriend’s head.”

Duncan raises his substantial eyebrows, looking shocked. “Wait, I did _what?_”

“Do you not- nevermind, you were pretty drunk. Maybe I’m remembering wrong,” Sergey mutters, going to the sink, ready to wash his hands not only literally, but figuratively of that nonsense.

Chingiz laughs. “Well, depending on which ex, I’d say Duncan here did you a favour that night. No offense, you don’t seem the fighting type, though, Dunc,” he smiles, and begins to show Duncan around the shelter. 

“Don’t forget to sign him in,” Sergey calls to Chingiz as he leads Duncan into the next room. 

He sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face on his way to fetch the canine immunization records. He can’t believe that the “_sweet, shy, angel_” Chingiz had been pining over for the past month is actually one of Miki’s friends- the one that got them kicked out of a bar, no less! Oh well. He’ll talk to Chingiz about it later, he doesn’t want to ruin his friend’s fun. But he might advise him not to take Duncan out for drinks as their first date.

Sergey spends the rest of his volunteer shift doing paperwork, feeding the dogs, corresponding with potential adopters, and of course, cuddling and playing with some of the dogs. He’s actually pretty lonely, what with his friend being occupied with showing Duncan around and introducing him to the dogs. Part of him just wants to go talk to them anyway, but the more stubborn part of him doesn’t really want to talk to Duncan right now. He also doesn’t want to hover, because he knows Chingiz is really interested in this guy. 

He gives some treats to his favourite dogs (who is he kidding, they’re all his favourites in their own way) before he leaves. He checks his phone briefly on his way out to the car- 7:30 pm already? Damn. He should probably grab something to eat.

He knows that if he goes home, he’ll be tempted to go back to sleep…. Maybe one quick bite out of the house won’t break his budget too much. 

* * *

Sergey finds himself at his favourite vegan taco place downtown. He’s not even vegan, but he _does_ have taste buds, and he knows that these beer-battered avocado tacos with cilantro slaw and balsamic reduction are precisely what he needs right now, even if his credit card doesn’t necessarily agree.

He’s enjoying his tacos, and decides to leave his phone in his bag and just people-watch for now. He’s used to eating alone, so going to a restaurant by himself doesn’t bother him. Tuco’s Taco Bar has some rustic iron barstools set up by the floor-to-ceiling windowfront that faces the busy street, and it’s his favourite place to chill, fuel up, and lose himself in his thoughts. And spot cute people. That too.

So far, he’s seen a squat woman pushing two yorkies in a stroller, four people carrying yoga mats, and one person carrying an umbrella even though it’s not raining out. He takes a bite of his taco, and when he looks back up again a small crowd of young people in brightly-coloured shirts are traipsing across the sidewalk. He recognizes a few faces, but one face in particular- his gangly mentee, Miki. His shirt is neon yellow, with the word “VOLUNTEER” stamped across the back. Sergey can’t quite make the logo of the organization on the front of the shirt out, he doesn’t think it’s one that he’s seen before.

He chews thoughtfully as the group continues down the street, all appearing to be laughing at something that Miki had said. Miki usually tells Sergey when he does volunteer work, even though he does quite a bit of it. It’s like he never wants to pass up an opportunity to impress his mentor. He’s never boastful about it though- it usually comes off similar to the way Sergey used to eagerly show his older brother his concert pieces or drawings of animals. “_Look what I can do!_”

Does Sergey view Miki as a brotherly figure? The thought gives him pause. They certainly get along very well. Sergey could venture to say that maybe he takes his mentor role a little too personally sometimes, but he genuinely does care for Miki and wants the best for him, especially when he knows how much potential the young man has. 

Sergey settles somewhere in the “don’t know yet” category on that question. But as he continues eating, he keeps thinking as well, even though Miki is long gone into the city with the other volunteers. Miki usually tells him about his volunteer work, before he even does it, just so he can update Sergey on how it went after the fact and Sergey can add it to his folder. He usually even asks Sergey for advice if it’s something Sergey has experience in. But Sergey hadn’t had a clue that Miki would be out volunteering tonight. On that note, hadn’t he told Sergey that he’d be staying in, practicing the monologue he’d been working so hard to write?

Frowning slightly as he swallows, Sergey wonders if he’d done something to upset Miki lately, or at least something to make him feel a little more guarded. Looking back, though, he really can’t think of anything. Maybe it was something he had said that he’d thought was innocent? Or maybe it was that time he’d responded a little late to that email… _okay, no_, Sergey mentally smacks his own wrist, _we got over the self-blame thing during our Master’s, and we’re not going back to it now_. He takes a few breaths to clear his head before bringing his empty plate back to the counter and paying for his meal. He can always ask Miki about this later. He’d probably just made a schedule mix-up, or forgotten to tell Sergey about his plans to volunteer tonight. He still can’t shake the nagging feeling of something not being right, but his gut has been wrong before, so he does his best to just calm down as he gets back in his car. Worrying is not going to do anything to fix a situation that he’s not even certain is broken in the first place. He twists his key in the ignition and allows muscle memory to take him to the university parking lot.

* * *

Dima feels like he’s on a soap opera, sometimes. People don’t always speak as quietly as they should on the first floor of the library, and he’s heard enough gossip to write multiple seasons of a TV show by now. He spins his desk chair back and forth, back and forth, and briefly savours the idea of getting rich by writing a series and selling it to Netflix or something. He’s always been more of a novel or short story writer, but he wouldn’t mind trying his hand at something that he’s not as experienced with yet. He’ll have to come up with a good name for it. Maybe something will come to him while he’s knitting, he hopes as he pulls his gear out of his knitting bag.

He’s still not sure what has possessed him to begin knitting a blanket for Sergey. At least, that’s what he’ll tell Kate when she asks him. Dima himself knows exactly why, even if it’s hard to admit to himself sometimes. Sergey is- well, Dima hates using the word _perfect_ to describe anything, so he’ll settle on saying that Sergey is a very lovable person. A lovable person that Dima thinks about more than he’d like to admit to anyone. And there’s a chance- a small chance, but still a chance- that Sergey might like him too? Dima’s definitely met people who were as friendly as Sergey is to him, who ended up wanting nothing beyond friendship, but he hopes that’s not what this is. He’d still be honoured to be Sergey’s friend, but… god damn it, he’s too cute for Dima to not shoot his shot. And instead of being normal, and asking Sergey on a date, Dima is knitting him a blanket. It made a lot more sense when he came up with the idea right before he fell asleep- Sergey likes to study on the upper floors sometimes, he gets cold, sometimes he falls asleep, yadda yadda, and it would probably be nice to have a blanket. Ideally he’ll find it super thoughtful and touching, and maybe Dima can keep the blanket at the desk so that Sergey can come fetch it when he needs it. He’d end up seeing more of the man in the process. That would be nice.

He puts an earbud in, listening to soft music as he knits. He wonders if Sergey will show up tonight. He doesn’t get too far into his musings- or his blanket- before he hears a small commotion. He can’t quite tell where it’s coming from, but he sits up straight and pauses his music. He listens for a moment more, before determining that it’s coming from the section where they keep some of the city newspapers' old microfilm. Dima sighs, putting his knitting away, and sets off to check it out. He really hopes it’s not some horny first-years again, because that’s usually what it is this time of year. As he gets closer, he can make out a few words.

“I- I just …” he hears someone sniffle, and then the next few words are too muffled for him to discern. Dima turns the corner, using his phone to illuminate the aisle, as he’d forgotten his flashlight at the desk. The three students in the aisle jump like cornered rats in an alley, one of them stammering out an apology as he scrubs tears off of his face.

Dima immediately regrets leaving his desk in the first place. Sure, this is part of his job, but he can’t just, like… awkwardly leave now. 

“What’s going on over here, is everything alright?” He asks in a hushed tone, praying that the answer will be ‘_nothing, and yes_’. Instead, the second, taller boy in the group bursts into tears, followed by the first one resuming his crying too. The petite girl with them looks embarrassed, but not enough to make Dima rule out the possibility that she may begin to cry at some point too.

“Okay, that’s not really an answer…” he mutters.

“Shut u-up, you s-sound just like my dad,” the shorter boy in the group hiccups and sniffles. Dima blinks and squints, affronted. 

“Look, there’s no need for insults. Do you need me to call mental health services? Would that help?”

“They’re fine,” the girl sighs. “We just like to cry about assignments in here sometimes so that we don’t bother our roommates. See?” She holds her phone out to Dima, and he can see that they were watching a video titled _TRY NOT TO CRY: DOGS REUNITED WITH THEIR OWNERS! <3_.

“I- what?” Dima asks, not even using his ‘librarian voice’. 

“It’s kind of like a club. I’m Ester, by the way.” She sticks out her slender hand, adorned with ornate rings, and Dima shakes it carefully.

“Nice to meet you?” Dima asks, because he’s not sure yet if meeting her was something he’d consider nice. “I’m Dima, I’m one of the librarians here. I usually work the night shift. I’ve never caught you all crying here before, though...”

“The library on the East end of campus kicked us out, so this is our first meeting here,” the taller boy nods, wiping his nose on his t-shirt, which makes Dima grimace. “I’m Luca. And that’s Eliot,” he gestures over to the shorter boy. Dima is relieved that Luca nor Eliot desire a handshake, because their hands are covered in tears and mucus. 

Dima sighs. “Alright. I’m not going to kick you out- tonight, at least- but come with me to the checkout desk so I can get you some tissues.”

“I knew I forgot something,” Eliot laments. 

Once they’re at the desk and everyone is cleaned up, Dima folds his hands together. “Okay, you three,” he says, looking at them seriously, “I will allow you to cry in here, but _only_ twice a week, and it must be when I’m working, because if Peter catches you, you’re toast. Here-” he digs his planner out of the bottom of his bag, having to move the partially-knitted blanket out of the way. “-you can pencil it in here, reserve your time slots. I can even let you into one of the post-graduate study rooms so that you don’t scare anyone.”

The three first-years debate briefly over what times work for each of them- Luca can’t do Thursday because he’ll be tired out from dance class, and Eliot has a podcast to listen to on Friday nights. Ester seems to be pretty flexible on her scheduling, explaining that she ‘thrives upon the inky blackness’, which Dima takes to mean that she’s a night owl. Or that she likes squid udon. One of the two.

“Here you go,” Eliot says, handing the planner back to Dima. “Hey, is that a blanket?”

“It’s going to be,” Dima says, moving the blanket away. 

“Do you have blankets here? Those would be great for the crying club,” he says thoughtfully. 

“No, there’s no other blankets.”

“Maybe we could have that one when it’s done?”

“No,” Dima says quickly, “No, I’m, um, this one is a gift for someone that I know.”

“Well then maybe after, you can knit us some blankets! We can buy you some yarn, right guys?” he asks his friends, who nod and agree excitedly.

“I- you know what, fine. Just promise not to cause any more ruckus for the rest of the night, and you owe me a coffee sometime.”

“Okay!” Ester says brightly, and Dima slumps back in his office chair as the three leave back into the shadowy aisles of the library. He drags a hand down his face and sighs. He really needs to learn to say no to students sometime. He looks back at the partial blanket that he’s knitted and runs his fingers over the soft yarn. Well, if those kids thought that blankets were cool, maybe Sergey would too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the feedback, everyone!


End file.
